


For My First Trick

by ryeloza



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 18:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryeloza/pseuds/ryeloza
Summary: “It’s for my sanity,” April had insisted when she’d first mentioned that they had to do something about Ben and Leslie. “Ever since they broke up, she’s been manic and he’s—“ One gesture toward the bathroom had been enough of an explanation; they’d both cringed as Ben continued to sing along, off-tune, to the same heartbroken mix he’d been listening to for weeks now.“I should write him a song,” Andy had offered. “Something better than what he’s been listening to. Like maybe I could change the words to ‘April, I’ve Left You Fifty Messages (Call Me Back).’”“Yeah. Or we could do something else.”





	For My First Trick

**Author's Note:**

> Resurrecting another old fic. Enjoy some season 4 Andy and April shenanigans, and Ben and Leslie break-up angst.

“Magic is…magical.”

Andy waves his hands in front of his face, meaning to look mysterious, but mostly using the movement to tap his top hat back a smidge. The sweat on his forehead keeps making the hat slip, and even though the rest of his magician’s costume only consists of a cape, it’s still too hot to wear in August.

Why do magicians have to wear capes and top hats anyway?

“As you will see,” he continues, tugging at his cape where it’s tied around his neck, “my magic is the most magical of all. For my first trick, I will need two volunteers. Lovely assistant, if you would be so kind.”

April, who insisted she didn’t have to wear a costume but still makes the hottest lovely assistant Andy’s ever seen, cracks her bubblegum and gazes out at the audience. Her sunglasses would make it doubly hard to know what she’s thinking if Andy wasn’t privy to the inner workings of her mind.

Or, you know, if they hadn’t planned this start to finish.

Most of the kids in the front are waving their hands, eager to be part of his trick, but April ignores them as she steps off of the stage. For a second, Andy imagines how excited they’d be if he was a real magician, the kind with a bunny and everything. A magical, musical magician. Maybe he could teach the bunny to play a tiny guitar. Dude, that would be so awesome. He makes a mental note to run it by April later.

His wife and lovely assistant, meanwhile, has already prodded their first volunteer toward the front of the stage. Leslie is smiling, if looking a little hesitantly at all of the kids still jumping out of their seats, as she joins Andy on stage. “This is awesome, right?” Andy asks, leaning a bit closer to Leslie. Sneakily, he squints at April, who appears to be employing both offensive and defensive moves to get Ben on stage too. Ben looks like he’d rather drink that expired milk in the fridge again than come up here, but April isn’t giving him much of a choice.

“It’s for my sanity,” April had insisted when she’d first mentioned that they had to do something about Ben and Leslie. “Ever since they broke up, she’s been manic and he’s—“ One gesture toward the bathroom had been enough of an explanation; they’d both cringed as Ben continued to sing along, off-tune, to the same heartbroken mix he’d been listening to for weeks now.

“I should write him a song,” Andy had offered. “Something better than what he’s been listening to. Like maybe I could change the words to ‘April, I’ve Left You Fifty Messages (Call Me Back).’”

“Yeah. Or we could do something else.”

Something else turned out to be a lot more exciting (though Andy had still left an updated recording of the song on Ben’s dresser, too). April is like an super evil genius for love.

Ben finally makes his way toward the stage, scowling, April walking behind him like an overzealous bodyguard. The kids sulk at the sight of the two adult volunteers; it’s enough to make Andy wish he had a second trick planned.

Ben joins them on stage, bullied closer to Leslie by April, though he doesn’t look at her. The sour look on his face seems to be reserved for only April and Andy.

“Behold!” Andy shouts now that his two volunteers are in position. He whips out a pair of handcuffs from the pocket of his shorts, dangling them before the audience. “Ordinary handcuffs!” He tugs on the ends, jangles them in the air, and even puts his foot against the chain, pressing his weight on them to show how sturdy they are. “Unbreakable!” His foot slips, tripping him forward, but he recovers quickly, grinning as the kids laugh. “Lovely assistant, if you would bring the volunteers forward.”

April, Leslie, and Ben all seem to be whispering furiously to one another, and Andy gives a pensive shrug to the audience. Without waiting for permission, he grabs Ben’s left arm and claps one ring of the handcuff around it. Ben lets out a muffled protest, but Leslie, who seems momentarily stunned, just stands there as Andy links her right wrist. For a moment, both she and Ben stare at the bond that joins them; when they catch each other’s eyes, though, they flinch and look away.

“Can we just get this over with?” hisses Ben.

Andy whips a dark scarf out from his other pocket. “Behold!” he shouts again. “An ordinary scarf!” He runs the scarf in front of his face, dabbing away a bit of the sweat, and then places it over Leslie’s and Ben’s hands. “Now, using only magic, I will remove the handcuffs, freeing my volunteers!”

Andy waves his hands over the scarf, sticking his tongue out and pretending to concentrate. It’s seriously a lot less pressure when he’s supposed to fail. “Abra-kadabra. Ala-kazam. Bibbity, bobbity, boo!”

He whips away the scarf. Ben and Leslie are still handcuffed. The audience of kids begins to boo, but Andy simply scratches his head, pretending to be puzzled. “Huh,” he says. “It totally worked when I practiced it last night.”

He makes another show of trying to use magic, nearly causing an audience revolt when his trick fails for a second time. April rushes forward, shouting that the show is over, while Andy inspects the handcuffs.

“Oh. Duh!” he says, hitting his own forehead. “These aren’t the magic ‘cuffs.”

“Andy…”

“Dude, it’s cool,” Andy reassures Ben, clapping him on the back. “We’ll just get the key. Let you and Leslie out.”

“You mean the key isn’t here?”

“Uh…No.”

Ben and Leslie exchange the same incredulous look, and Andy suppresses a smile. “Come on,” he says. “We’ll have you out in no time. Babe?”

“There are no refunds,” April is saying to a particularly angry-looking kid. “Trust me, the Amazing Andy needs your money more than you do.”

“Did you charge these kids?” asks Leslie, horrified. “April?”

“Our show, my rules,” snaps April, turning from the kid. She glances at Andy, an almost imperceptible smirk of success on her face, and he can’t help but kiss her.

Stage one has been a complete success.  


  
*****

  
Okay. So it maybe crosses April’s mind once that what they’re doing to Leslie and Ben borders on cruel and unusual punishment. But what their breakup has done to the rest of the world is downright sadistic. Yesterday Ben commandeered the television for about ten hours; most of it was spent watching PBS, including three documentaries on amusement parks. He was practically begging for an intervention.

Her methods might be a little extreme, but beyond locking them in a closet together, she can’t think of another way to force them to talk. And they need to talk. Or fuck. Or whatever it was they were doing before they both became the two polar extremes of depression.

“Where are we going?” asks Ben, apparently broken from the comatose, zombie-like trance of the past few weeks. “Our house is in the opposite direction.”

“Obviously the key isn’t there, Ben.”

“But you do have the key, right?” He leans forward, sticking his head between the two front seats. “April? You have the key.”

“Sure.” She glances over, perturbed by the proximity of Ben’s face to hers, and shoves him back. “But, uh, we might have left it somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Dude, we went camping last weekend, and the handcuffs were totally a sexy surprise, if you know what I mean.”

April glances back at Ben just in time to see his disgusted reaction; she wonders if he’ll bleach his arm when he gets home.

“Anyway, we totally left the key behind.”

“What? Like in the woods?”

“No, in the cabin. April hates the outdoors.”

Leslie’s brow is furrowed, like she’s puzzling out the holes in their story—the ones April didn’t bother to anticipate. Her lies are based in intimidation and doubt as much as anything, so gaps in logic aren’t necessarily considerations.

“What’s the big hurry anyway?” she asks, throwing a pointed look at Leslie. “I thought you two were friends.”

“We were. Are.” Ben lifts his cuffed hand, consequently lifting Leslie’s as well, and waves it in April’s face. “But I don’t think either of us wants to spend the day like this.”

“Yeah,” agrees Leslie, though the look she gives Ben seems to be a mix of annoyance and hurt. “Plus I need to get back. What’s the point of an employee appreciation barbeque if you’re not there to appreciate the employees?”

“Hamburgers,” offers Andy. “Also potato sack race.”

“Well neither is going to happen if Ron’s left in charge.”

Andy looks outraged enough by this that he seems to consider aborting the plan, and April squeezes his forearm, shaking her head slightly. “Mission,” she mouths, and Andy nods.

“I don’t even like hamburgers,” he announces.

Silently, April groans.  


  
*****

  
Ben had a bad feeling about today from the moment he woke up. Of course, it was the generally miserable ache he’s been feeling since he and Leslie broke up, the one compounded by knowing that seeing her would be unavoidable. Weekends were meant for wallowing now, spending two whole days out of Leslie’s orbit; he hadn’t been able to explain that to Chris, though, when he insisted Ben attend the barbeque.

Now Andy and April are involved. And handcuffs. And the woods. And he’s beginning to believe it’s possible that they’re bringing them out here to secretly murder them.

As though they’ve silently agreed to ignore their predicament, both he and Leslie have turned to stare out their windows as Andy drives them deeper into the forest. The handcuffs aren’t very slack; Ben guesses they have only five inches distance if they keep their hands spread as far apart as they can, but it’s a strain to maintain that conscious distance. More than once, he’s felt his palm connect with her wrist or their fingers brush before he remembers to keep the chain taut. Already, he can feel his wrist chafing from the effort, and it feels like a constant, sickening reminder that he actually can’t be this close to Leslie anymore.

Being murdered in the woods by his roommates might not actually be so bad, in comparison.

His mind keeps replaying his inability to escape this situation. He’d been goaded onto the stage by April, manhandled by Andy, blinded by Leslie’s tentative smile, and really, he should have turned and fled the moment he saw her headed for the stage. April is clearly on a mission to get back at him for what has been going on at home lately, Andy complacently along for the ride, and the only question is how exquisitely she’s designed this torture – does she know about the breakup, or is it an unintended bonus for her?

He really should have just handed over the remote yesterday. Clearly PBS had pushed her over the edge.

The car creeps to a stop in what appears to be the middle of nowhere, and Ben feels a chill run down his spine despite the humid summer day. Clearly something else is going on here; he’s certain that if he could see April right now, she’d be smirking deviously. Andy, however, hops out of the car without any sign that something more sinister is going on, and opens Leslie’s door with a flourish. Leslie glances at him, something in her eyes telling him she’s as wary as he is, but when he simply shrugs, she slides out of the car. He follows obediently, the backs of his fingers brushing hers as he gets out of the car, and then they stand apart, arms spread toward each other as their bodies try their best to maintain physical distance.

“I don’t see a cabin,” says Leslie.

“Right through the trees.” Andy points, walking a little ways, and Ben reluctantly begins to follow, Leslie trailing behind him as though she’s more uncertain. When they get to the edge of the clearing, right where the trees thicken, Ben can see the hint of a structure in the distance. But he wouldn’t call it a cabin.

“Andy, that’s a shack,” he says, squinting. “It doesn’t even look structurally sound…”

He turns to look at his friend, but Andy is running back to the car, magician’s cape flailing behind him. He practically dives into the car, shutting the door on his cape, and before Ben realizes what’s happening, he hits the gas. The wheels spin in the dirt for a moment until finally Andy gets control, and then he circles the clearing and heads back toward the dirt road. The last thing Ben sees as they drive away is April waving out the window, grinning evilly.

Ben turns to Leslie, who looks as stunned as he feels. “What just happened? Did they just…abandon us?”

“Yep.”

“In the woods. Handcuffed. Seriously?”

Leslie shrugs.

Ben feels his last nerve snap as the reality of this situation sets in. He sinks to the ground, his left arm dangling absurdly near Leslie’s hip, and rubs his free hand against his forehead. He’s pretty sure he’s developed an instantaneous migraine.

“What supplies did they leave us?” asks Leslie.

“What?”

He looks up at her, sun glimmering through the canopy of trees surrounding them, and tries to calm his racing heart. She looks only mildly perturbed by the turn this day has taken, and he wonders if his freaking out is making her irrationally calm. It reminds him of the night before the Harvest Festival, his anxiety peaking while she, composure never wavering, saved the day.

Maybe he’s making this out to be worse than it is.

“Andy left a bag,” Leslie says, nodding toward the ground next to him. Ben looks over and notices a plastic bag abandoned on the ground. Curious, he pokes through it.

“Two water bottles and a box of NutriYum bars.” He frowns. “Does that mean they are or aren’t coming back for us?”

“I have no idea.” Leslie glances around as Ben fishes his cell phone out of his pocket; he’s both unsurprised and annoyed that there isn’t reception. “You know, we’re not that far from the ranger’s cabin. There’s a landline there. We could call for help.”

Ben looks at their surroundings. Every direction looks the same: trees, trees, and more trees. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’ve only been out here a hundred times.” She rolls her eyes and steps forward, tugging at their chain. “Come on. Bring the bag.”

Dutifully, Ben picks up the bag and stands. Given their situation, he can’t afford to lose faith in her now.  


  
*****

  
Leslie is trying to look at the bright side here.

She decided to wear tennis shoes to the barbeque today. Definitely a plus now.

She knows these woods like the back of her hand. And even with novice Ben, the hike to the ranger’s cabin isn’t that far.

Andy and April left them water and food. Clearly, they didn’t intend to abandon them to die in the woods.

All very positive things to focus on. All things that Leslie needs to focus on in order to keep a calm, clear head. After all, thinking about how Andy and April clearly did this _on purpose, _and how these handcuffs are rubbing her wrist raw, and how trying to hike while chained to another person is beyond irritating is not going to help.

Nor is thinking about who she’s linked to.

Ben tried to stay alongside her for awhile, but with all of the trees, it turned out to be a rather fruitless endeavor. He trails behind her now, feet cracking over sticks and brush, cursing every so often, both of their arms strained by the awkward position of walking in line rather than side-by-side. She’s reminded of the first time they went camping together – of how woefully unprepared Ben had been – and how she always intended to take him again, just the two of them.

This wasn’t what she had in mind.

“What the hell is wrong with them?” Ben mutters. “Leaving us out here. Handcuffed. Like abandoning us in the wood wasn’t enough.”

Leslie is pretty sure they’re rhetorical questions. Or at least unanswerable. She has no idea what April and Andy were thinking either.

“I mean, I thought April was maybe a little insane, but this—this is _really _insane. Like certifiably, lock you up kind of crazy. Who _does_ this?”

“April once told me she put superglue in her sister’s shampoo because she was bored,” offers Leslie. “Let’s just be grateful she didn’t do that.”

Very grateful. The thought of Ben having to shave his head is about as horrifying an image as she can think of.

“She didn’t do his because she was bored,” pants Ben. “Oh no. This is revenge.”

“Revenge for what?”

Leslie stops, mostly to regain her bearings, and Ben halts next to her. He’s sweaty, t-shirt sticking to his chest, forehead slightly damp, and Leslie’s feels her heart catch in her throat. Obliviously, Ben lifts his shirt to wipe his face, and her eyes sweep down his chest, eagerly taking in the sight of his bare stomach, skin glistening in a way that’s both familiar and bothersome. When he lowers his shirt, she panics, reaching for the bag and stealing one of the water bottles, gulping down the liquid before he notices that she was staring.

Ben’s watching her as she swipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and she tries not to squirm. This is exactly what she’s been trying not to think about since they broke up – Ben in any remotely sexual context.

At least not when they’re together.

“I think she’s mad at me,” Ben says, and it takes Leslie’s brain a moment to rejoin the conversation. “And I mean, I get it. Kind of. I have maybe…” He sighs. “Maybe not been the best roommate lately. But this—“ He gestures widely, and Leslie’s not sure if he’s referring to their situation, their surroundings, or both. “—is a bit excessive.”

“But she doesn’t know,” says Leslie. “Right? About us, I mean. It’s not like she planned this because we…Right?”

“I have no idea.”

Leslie frowns, wondering, not for the first time, if April knew more than she let on. She and Ben had been so sneaky, but April did live with him, and she is more astute than she pretends to be.

But if she knew they’d been dating than she must know that they broke up. And if that’s the case, she wouldn’t do this. Right? April is a lot of things, but Leslie has never considered her cruel.

“How much farther is it?”

She blinks, shaking her thoughts of April from her mind, and glancing down the hill. “Not much.”

It’s at least an hour. But looking at Ben’s flushed face, the irritation in his eyes, she thinks it’s better not to tell him.  


  
*****

  
It’s been at least forty-five minutes since they stopped at the top of that hill. Not that Ben has kept a close eye on his watch or anything, but it’s become clear that Leslie’s definition of nearby is much different than his.

Also, he’d swear they’ve passed this rock already.

Not that it doesn’t look the same as every other damn rock.

Leslie looks like she was made for this type of activity. In her skirt and tennis shoes, hair pulled back with just the slightest hint of sweat at the nape of her neck, she’s scrambling over the terrain like it’s second nature. He, on the other hand, has been huffing and puffing behind her now for what feels like an eternity. His muscles in his arm are exhausted from the strain of their awkward position, and he’d like nothing more than to dump the entire bottle of water Andy left over his head.

With his wrist cuffed to Leslie’s, he can’t even take his shirt off.

He tries to focus on his anger, directing his thoughts at the hell he plans to unleash the moment he sees April and Andy again, but the longer they walk, the less concentrated his annoyance is. Not that his exasperation has left him (not by a long shot, considering the physical pain and the bug bites, the heat and discomfort), but there are other things taking precedence over revenge fantasies.

Primarily Leslie.

Walking behind Leslie.

And the way his eyes can’t seem to stop straying to her ass, following the sway of her hips as she walks, trying not to get too close when she has to climb up a rock before him.

It doesn’t help that they’re not talking. In the lapse of conversation, he’s left to focus on her physical presence, the sound of her breathing, the little sounds she makes when she hikes some particularly rough terrain. It’s hard not to recall what their previous physical exertions have been limited to, and he finds his mind wandering to much more pleasurable memories.

He’s still so attracted to her. And out here, in the middle of nowhere, literally tied to her, it’s hard to remember why he’s not allowed to be.

Leslie hoists herself up on another rock, and this time Ben nearly has to stand on his tiptoes to accommodate his arm. She looks out at the distance, and then turns to crouch down and jump off the rock. Without thinking, he wraps his left hand around her right and then offers her his free hand as well, helping her down. She lands, cat-like, so close to him that her chest grazes his, and he steps back, startled.

“We’re really close,” says Leslie, rubbing her right wrist with her left hand. He can see that the handcuff has rubbed her skin as raw as his is.

“Close like the last time you said we were close or actually close?”

Leslie raises an eyebrow, and he tries not to wince. _It’s not _her _fault, _he reminds himself.

“Probably fifteen or twenty minutes.”

He nods, eyes sweeping over her face as she brushes her hand over her forehead. She licks her lips, uncapping her water bottle, and Ben turns away. He’s uncomfortably aware of their proximity, but there’s no way to escape her. Hurriedly, he goes around the rock, up a little ways to stand between two trees, and he hears Leslie grunt as he drags her along. He needs a minute to breathe – needs a minute away from her, but there’s no reprieve. She comes to stand next to him, leaning against one tree as he leans against the other, and when he glances at her, he sees some of her water has spilled, a darkening spot along the v-neck of her t-shirt.

Ben steps back, a visceral reaction to the sight in front of him, entirely forgetting where he is. For a second, he tries to regain his footing, his right arm waving wildly to grab on to anything nearby, but it’s impossible. He tips back, stumbling down the small slope where they were standing a moment before, and bringing Leslie with him. He lands, hard, on his back, but it isn’t until Leslie falls on top of him, her elbow digging into his stomach, that he loses his breath.

For a minute, he lies there, conscious of the ache that seems to linger from head-to-toe now, but more acutely aware of Leslie on top of him. She hasn’t moved since they landed in a heap, her torso over his, right leg between his legs. He can feel every breath she takes, the press of her breasts against his chest, but it’s the expression on her face that does him in – the raw, heady look in her eyes that is all want and need, overpowering the knowledge of how wrong they both know this is.  


  
*****

  
Leslie couldn’t say which of them initiates the kiss. She’d felt the words lodged at the back of her throat – “Sorry! Are you okay?”; she’d known that he’d let her go if she’d scrambled to her feet; she’d been too-aware of the ways in which to diffuse the situation. But she’d done nothing. Nothing by lie there, feeling his heart race beneath her fingertips, studying his face, lips, eyes as he stared at her, barely breathing because she didn’t want to break the spell.

She didn’t want to.

And now she’s kissing him. He’s kissing her. His hand is threaded through her hair, thumb against her cheek, lips sure and eager against hers, and it’s everything she’s been aching for over the past few weeks. She’s imagined this situation (or a version of it – her imagination isn’t quite this inventive) from nearly the moment they broke up, but however she’d indulged in fantasy, deep down she’d always hoped she’d be stronger in reality.

Because they can’t do this.

The knowledge of that isn’t lost on her. She can feel it seep into their kiss, the way her hand fists his t-shirt, the subtle movement of her lower body against his: the undercurrent of how this is forbidden now, dangerous and reckless in more ways than it once was. She knows she should stop; she knows she should pull back and apologize and remind him of what they both already know, but it’s _Ben_. Ben, who she’s been missing even when they’re in the same room; who she’s been dreaming about at night; who she aches for in ways she didn’t even acknowledge until this moment.

It’s more overpowering than her common sense has ever been.

“Leslie—“

She stifles him with another kiss, running her tongue along his bottom lip, his mouth opening beneath hers and deepening the kiss. The fingers of their bound hands entwine, Leslie pinning Ben’s arm to the ground above his head, while she consciously grinds her pelvis against his thigh. Ben groans into her mouth, his right arm drifting down her back to her ass, encouraging her movement, and she loses herself in him. She doesn’t want to think or talk or stop; doesn’t want Ben to either; doesn’t want either of them to exist outside of this moment.

She moves her lips, beginning to kiss along his jaw, down his neck, to any piece of skin she can reach. His free hand is everywhere, under her shirt, dancing up her spine, cupping her breasts, while hers begins to fumble with his fly. There’s an unfamiliar hurry to each movement, and Leslie knows it’s the undercurrent of reality that threatens to break this spell. If they stop to savor this, it will break, shattering into a thousand pieces they may never be able to put back together. So instead they rush, lost in the intensity of each kiss, each touch, each unsatisfied desire that is finally fulfilled.

Leslie sits up, tugging on Ben’s shorts and boxers just enough to release him from their confines. Her hands move to her own underwear, but it’s clumsy; their joined hands make it awkward to use her right hand, and it takes several frustrating moments before she can shuck them. For a minute, the recklessness of this truly hits her – they’re not exactly out in the open, but it’s summer and surely there are families camping nearby – but when Ben pulls her down for another kiss, the moment of uncertainty flees as well.

“I missed you,” he mumbles against her neck. His right hand is under her skirt, his fingers slipping against her folds, and it’s insane how ready she is for him, how frenzied this encounter is. At the same time, she can feel her breath catch in her chest, unsteady like she’s about to cry, and she shuts her eyes. For a long moment, she allows herself just to feel him – his hand against her, his lips on her neck, the rise and fall of his chest beneath hers. Her hips buck against his, trying to increase the friction of his fingers, and she realizes how close she is already. Without warning, she sits up again, sliding her folds against his cock as he groans beneath her.

“God, Leslie.”

“I missed you, too,” she confesses. She lowers herself onto his cock, breathing heavily as he enters her, reveling in the sensation of him full and hard inside of her. She both did and didn’t believe this would ever happen again; can barely believe that it’s happening now.

She begins to ride him, encouraged by the strength of his hand on her hip, the feeling of him inside of her and beneath her. Both of her hands are anchored against his abdomen, but she can feel his left hand on top of her right, steadying her as she begins to move with abandon. When his hips begin to buck up to meet hers, she cries out, and Ben kisses her to muffle the sound.

His hand moves under her skirt as they kiss, their lower bodies slowing for a moment, grinding against one another, prolonging this in the only way they can. It’s only when she feels his hand meet the back of hers that she realizes they’re still linked by the handcuffs; he guides her own fingers into her folds, their hands working together to stroke her, and the sensation breaks the last of her restraint.

She pushes him back, moving faster now, desperate to fuck him hard, feel him deeper, push herself over the edge. It’s so good – it feels so good, and she can’t think about anything else but him.

“Leslie—“

He gasps her name as she leans forward, pressing their fingers into her clit and moaning at the sensation. Her body is on edge, so close – she can feel herself about to break.

“Leslie, look at me,” he says, and like waking in a fog, she realizes her eyes have been closed this whole time. When she opens them, he’s looking at her like this is _everything_, and it’s enough.

It’s everything.  


  
*****

  
The air around them is muggy when Leslie collapses, dead weight against his chest. They’re both still dressed, clothes stuck to their bodies, hot and sweaty as they lie against one another. The satisfaction he feels is marred by the enormity of what they’ve just done, and he shuts his eyes in an attempt to block out the regret.

It feels like they lie there forever. Ben runs his hand along her back, breathes in the scent of her hair, all the while trying to keep his tears at bay. He knows the moment they get up, he’ll have lost her all over again.

So they don’t let go.  


  
*****

  
When Ben gets home that night, he’s sunburnt, sweaty, dirty, and sans Leslie, and before April or Andy can even greet him, he goes to his bedroom and slams the door. The sound feels like a physical blow to April, and she burrows into Andy’s side where he sits on the couch.

“It’s not your fault,” says Andy, fingers playing with her hair. “I mean, it was your idea and your plan, but it’s totally not your fault it didn’t work.”

Andy’s logic is not always as comforting as his embrace.

“It’s like I always say,” he continues, unaware that April wants to forget her failure in silence, “if it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen. You know? We can’t force them to stop being idiots. Only they can force themselves to stop being idiots.”

“What if they never stop being idiots?”

Andy shrugs. “We can always try again. But maybe no handcuffs next time.”

As Ben’s music begins to blast – at twice its normal volume – April winces.

Definitely no handcuffs next time.


End file.
